


Liars Trade

by Labradoodles_and_Muffins



Series: this house is not a home (but it could be) [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen, Other, Past Child Abuse, Post-Demands of the Qun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 07:25:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4051405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Labradoodles_and_Muffins/pseuds/Labradoodles_and_Muffins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not that he doesn’t notice. He is, or rather was, Ben-Hassrath after all. It’s that he doesn’t realise the depth of it, how old wounds are being kept open raw by the new ones layered atop them. For someone who flushes raw red at the slightest provocation and is so brutally honest most of the time, it is surprising just how well she lies when she chooses to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Liars Trade

It’s not that he doesn’t notice. He is, or rather was, Ben-Hassrath after all. It’s that he doesn’t realise the depth of it, how old wounds are being kept open raw by the new ones layered atop them. For someone who flushes raw red at the slightest provocation and is so brutally honest most of the time, it is surprising just how well she lies when she chooses to.

 

She has insulted three nobles and almost started a small war with her honesty thus far and it’s that which prevented him from seeing past. He knew she was raised in a Circle, away from the noble life that might have trained her to lie and so he didn’t look as closely as he might have if she’d had a different life, allowed stereotypes and assumptions to cloud his vision. He really has been away from the Qun for too long.

 

She is not afraid of demons, a fact that confuses him and causes Ma’am no small amount of grief. He thought that all mages were at least wary of the creatures; even Dalish doesn’t like them, not that she’s a mage or anything. But the Boss shows not even the slightest concern. Oh she respects them as foes in battle but when confronted with the idea that they pose an extra threat she simply laughs, slow and sad.

 

The story of the Ferelden Circle had circulated and people began to ask her if that had happened at Ostwick, all determined to know why this mage was not afraid of the things she was _supposed_ to be afraid of, almost angry at the sheer impertinence of it. She never answers directly, just allows them to make their assumptions, and that was why he hadn’t trusted her at first.

 

Perhaps she was a blood mage or already possessed. But Ma’am said a demon would emerge to protect itself at the cost of its disguise and the Boss had almost died enough times that they’d know by now if she was possessed. She does not have the cuts standard for a blood-mage and her magic, while it feels like storms and anger and defense, is not borne of blood. For all his training and skill at discerning the truth he had fallen back on the same assumption that the rest of them had; she just wasn’t afraid.

 

And that’s how it stays until Adamant.

 

The Nightmare laughs at her, calls her ‘Tattle-tale Tatiana’, calls her _whore_ and _prude_ in the same breath, calls her weak and useless and tells her she is nothing more than a burden. He turns to reassure her, remind her that it’s nothing but a demons trick, but she’s smiling and it stops him cold. Sharp like glass but strangely wistful at the same time, a contradiction that doesn’t fit. Cole makes a low sad noise at whatever it is that’s running through her head and he finally realises that he was wrong about why she wasn’t afraid.   

 

He thought he had seen the best liars in Thedas on Seheron; the ‘Vints whose tongues dripped honeyed lies all the time, who tricked their way into a mans head as easy as any demon. The Fog Warriors whose lies were crafted in stone, as violent as an uncontrolled gaatlok explosion, more brutal but no less effective.

  
He realises he was wrong when the tiny, frightened mage who wore her heart on her sleeve looked the Fear Demon in the eye and laughed. Some lies are crafted in smiles and kindness and exist only to wrap around the liar like armour. For the first time since this whole thing began he is genuinely afraid of this bas-saarebas.

 

He avoids her for a while after that, so incredibly uncomfortable around the strange bas-saarebas with no arvaarad who reacts to nothing the way she should. The idea seems laughable; The Iron Bull afraid of someone who flinches at raised voices and startles when a door is shut too fast. He spends a week thinking about it, cross-referencing everything he knows about her with everything he’s guessed and comes to a conclusion he doesn’t like.

 

Because he _likes_ the Boss; she’s quick-witted and sharp tongued, but rarely cruel to someone who hasn’t earned it, and she’s not too stuck up to apologise when it’s owed. She likes warm socks and the winged nug Krem made for her has pride of place on her desk and she never, _never_ lets nobles laugh at it. The first thing he heard her say that didn’t sound like it had been scripted by Josephine was “If you don’t like it come up here and fight me.” Josephine had been horrified and the Boss had apologised but the little glint in her eyes had said she wasn’t sorry.

 

He can put the pieces together easily enough but something keeps him from asking. Maybe it’s manners - if he’s right it’ll be a sensitive subject and he doubts she wants to relive it - or maybe it’s because he’s not sure if he wants to know. If he doesn’t ask then it’s just speculation and he can keep on pretending that maybe he’s wrong. (He’s not, it all fits together too well to be coincidence, but he’s gotten good at lying to himself.)

 

It all comes to a head after the loss of the Qunari alliance. He stands on the parapets of Skyhold with a knife in his shoulder ranting about being Tal-Vah-fucking-Shoth while she looks at him in that way that means she’s weighing something up in her mind. He finally gets to the root of the problem, admits that he’s afraid of what he’ll become, and she just...looks at him.

 

She looks at him and it’s like looking in a (smaller, squishier) mirror. They’re both birds in the wind looking for somewhere safe to land. They might have found their place but neither of them are sure, tentatively testing the people around to see whether it’s safe or if they’ll have to spread their wings and flee again. The difference is that he has experience with safe landings and she only has experience with traps and danger.

 

She starts talking, slowly at first like she’s weighing each word for truthfulness before she lets it out, talking about family and friends and building a home. She speeds up as she gains confidence, speaks of fear and freedom and crashing into unfamiliar worlds with arms wide open, until she’s talking to the beat of a heart.

 

It’s all an unfamiliar ideal but the more she talks and pours passion into it the less afraid he becomes. She winds down as the sun sinks beneath the horizon and they stand there in companionable silence, both a little battered and bruised but still alive.

 

  
  



End file.
